


Then Just Screw For The Hell Of It

by silverlining99



Series: Rain [3]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Academy Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-16
Updated: 2009-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverlining99/pseuds/silverlining99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fumbling through the rest of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then Just Screw For The Hell Of It

Jim leaves after his shower, hurrying away in borrowed, baggy jeans and his own crumpled, still-damp t-shirt to get ready for class.

McCoy doesn't see him again for two weeks.

He brushes it off; he figures Jim was warming someone else's bed within 24 hours, protestations of default 'fidelity' aside. He knows kids like Jim - he _was_ a kid like Jim, for the too-brief year he spent away from home at college before he met Jocelyn and married her in a whirlwind of lovelorn idiocy. He doesn't expect anything.

He would kind of like his jeans back, though.

So he's surprised when Jim finds him on a Friday afternoon in the student union, pulling out a chair on the other side of the table McCoy has staked out to study and turning it around to straddle. "Hey."

McCoy sets down his data pad and leans back in his seat, lets his gaze wander over Jim. The kid looks different than he's ever seen, fresh haircut and tidy uniform, eyes bright and alert. "Hello," he returns easily, but doesn't offer anything further.

Jim reaches across the table and steals a slice of the toast McCoy has been snacking on. "So I was wondering - do you play pool?"

He raises an eyebrow, calmly reaches over and takes the bread back before he loses more than one bite to Jim's appetite. "I have, on occasion, been know to play pool, yes."

"Want to go shoot a few games tonight? I gotta get out of here for awhile." Jim tracks the toast with his eyes, steals it again as soon as McCoy sets it down. "Don't be stingy, it's unattractive."

"You know what's unattractive? An utter lack of basic manners." Jim just eyes him with laughter in his eyes and sticks out his tongue to reveal half-chewed bread. McCoy scowls at him. "That's not unattractive, that's just disgusting. Were you raised by wolves?"

"I've called my step-father many a thing, but he was indisputably human." Jim taps his fingers on the table. "So? Pool?"

McCoy gestures to the data pads scattered in front of him. "I'm kind of busy, here."

"And I bet you could use a break," Jim replies, undeterred. "Come _on_. I'll even buy you a drink."

"Be still my heart," he says flatly. "Don't you have _friends_ you could go harass?"

"Sure. But I want you to go." Jim looks him straight on and narrows his eyes slightly. "I get it. You're afraid I'm gonna seduce you again."

He can't help but bark out laughter at that. "Kid, you are about the least frightening thing I've ever encountered, and that includes my six-year-old who's in a fairy princess phase. And if you call _that_ seduction... Good lord, do I pity the person you wind up with permanently."

For a second he thinks he may have offended Jim, who stares at him silently. "To be fair," he finally says evenly, in a good-natured tone, "six-year-old girls are fucking terrifying, so if you had a point it's not taken. As to the other thing - how long _was_ it before you could sit down comfortably? Just curious."

McCoy flushes hotly, less from embarrassment than from the memory that it had been two days, two long days before he stopped feeling the twinge, the phantom pressure of Jim inside him. "Is that what this is?" he demands. "You're hard up and hoping I'll let you fuck me again?"

Jim shrugs. "Nah. I mean, yes, but that was yesterday and the day before and the day _before_ , too. This is: I'm bored, you're not boring, I would like get the fuck out of here and shoot some pool and spend some time with you. Am I speaking Klingon or something? This is not that difficult."

"You want to spend time with me."

"Why not? Like I said, you're not boring like most everyone else around here." Jim glances at the data pads. "Though I'm reconsidering that. Okay. Have at it. I'll see you around."

McCoy watches him get up and return his chair to its place, and he only sighs when Jim turns to go. "Kid." Jim looks back, rolling his eyes at the pejorative term. "Where'd you want to go? I have an appointment soon, but I can meet you after."

"Six o'clock. Felipe's on -"

"Market, yeah, I know the place." He quirks a small smile at Jim. "See you, then."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jim is already there when he arrives, leaning sideways against the bar on one elbow, hip cocked, idly watching other patrons. "Hey, awesome, you made it," he says happily when McCoy edges in front of him. He waves at a perspiring, fire-red drink sitting on the bar. "Try that. I'll drink it if you don't like it, but you gotta try it."

McCoy picks it up and peers at it suspiciously. "What is it?"

Jim shrugs. "It's called a Big Red. I don't know what all's in it, except Nausicaan mint weed. It's like a mojito on steroids."

McCoy takes a sip, lets it settle, then coughs hoarsely. The flare of the mint is sharp and spicy, but slowly fades to a sweet aftertaste. "Huh. That is good."

"I know, right? Come on, I reserved a table." Jim spins away from the bar and pushes into, through the crowd, his beer held high to avoid spilling. McCoy follows close behind, taking advantage of the gaps in Jim's wake, and watches Jim rack the balls expertly.

They play game after game, talking about nothing important - classes, goals, whether Admiral Fisk is screwing Commander Leyton as the rumor goes - as they each win twice. McCoy notices quickly that Jim is consummate at whatever he does, in this case playing the perfect friend, just attentive enough without leaning on innuendo. He doesn't get it, doesn't understand the game Jim must be playing with him, doesn't see the point of all the bother. McCoy decides, just after Jim breaks their fifth and tie-breaking set, to open both cans of worms at once.

"Mind me asking what I did to earn a place in your good graces? Sex aside, of course."

"Eh, you just seem cool." Jim takes a shot, doesn't sink anything. "You haven't made a big deal out of my father, for one thing."

"Why the hell should I? Your father someone I'm supposed to know?"

Jim stares at him suspiciously, then laughs and claps him on the shoulder. "Nope. Your turn."

McCoy eyes the table, frowning at his options. "I'm going to beat you," he says, more to convince himself than to gloat confidently.

"Wanna make it interesting?"

"If you win?"

"You tutor me in xenobio next quarter. I am absolute shit at that kind of stuff."

"Done."

"You?"

"If I win -" He glances at Jim, watches him thoughtfully. "If I win you come back to my room tonight."

Jim goes absolutely still but for the jump in his throat as he swallows hard, gaze locked on McCoy. "You made it pretty clear you didn't want to do that again."

McCoy opens his mouth to point out that he did no such thing, then pauses. "Are you seriously telling me you showed up thinking you weren't even gonna get laid?"

"Hey, I _told_ you -"

"Whatever, never mind. I just didn't want you wasting my time if it was all you were really after - I'm a doctor, not a booty call." McCoy shrugs and leans over to line up his shot. Even as he watches his ball sink into a corner pocket, Jim's cue lands with a clatter across the table. "Forfeit," Jim says quietly, ducking down to speak close to McCoy's ear. "Looks like you win."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They stumble their way through McCoy's rooms towards the bed, a clumsy struggle to reach it while shedding their clothes and not breaking the kiss that both of them are determined to control. "You are so fucking _hot_ ," Jim gasps, and shoves McCoy down on the bed. McCoy kicks his shoes and trousers free and Jim hastily unzips his pants and shoves them down, dances his way out of them. His cock, flushed and full, bobs with his movements. "What do you want? Tell me what you want -" He stops with a strangled groan as McCoy sits up and pulls him in with firm hands on his ass, bows his head to draw the glistening tip into his mouth. "Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod, yes, just, that's - fuuuuuck."

Jim rests his hands on McCoy's shoulders, moves them restlessly. McCoy appreciates that he's very obviously _not_ just grabbing for hair and trying to take over, is impressed at Jim's courtesy for what is clearly new to him. It makes him like the kid all the more, but it's not what he wants. He works at figuring out how to use his tongue in a way he'd never really planned but reaches up, fumbles his hand along one of Jim's arms until he closes it around Jim's wrist and guides it to the back of his head.

"Shit," Jim whispers. He doesn't do anything right away, just cradles the back of McCoy's skull and rubs his fingertips in light circles, his breath harsh and fast over McCoy's head. But at last he curls his fingers around a fistful of hair and pushes lightly, his hips nudging forward at the same time.

McCoy widens his jaw and flattens his tongue and lets Jim's cock slide deeper into his mouth. When it's all he can take he squeezes Jim's hip, lets out a muffled grunt, and Jim takes perfect note. He holds McCoy still and pumps in and out slowly, never too much, never too far. McCoy listens to the sounds of his soft moans, his "god, your _mouth_ , yeah, take it, Bones, suck it" going straight from McCoy's ears to his groin, making him palm himself roughly and groan around Jim's cock.

Jim suddenly lurches back without warning; McCoy stares up at him, startled. Jim just shakes his head, touches a finger to McCoy's spit-wet, swollen lips, then clambers on top of him, all knees and elbows and his filthy, messy, beautiful mouth, sucking hungrily at McCoy's lips and tongue. "Not like that," he gasps. "Not like- I want- I --"

"I want you inside me," McCoy says and bites down on Jim's earlobe, tugs at it. He should feel ridiculous saying it, he knows, should be kicking himself for the cheesiness, the girliness, but his voice is rough and desperate to his own ears and it's what he *wants*, wants Jim spreading him open and filling him and fucking him raw, wants a few more days of feeling it when Jim is nowhere to be found, off living the life of a guy with everything spread out ahead of him, waiting, instead of left, broken, behind.

Jim hovers over him, stares at him wide eyes and then laughs. "O- _kay_ ," he agrees with a grin, a nod. He holds himself up on one arm and jacks McCoy firmly, licking his lips as McCoy thrusts up into his hand. "How many days was it, anyway? I wanna make it one more."

McCoy bites his lip and fights the rush, refuses to let go so soon. "Don't think I won't return the favor if you don't get the fuck on with it," he snaps, his need flaring as irritation.

Jim doesn't take it personally; McCoy wonders if he ever does or if he just floats through life letting everything roll off his shoulders. He wonders if he should be envious of that, if Jim is just _happier_ for the belief in his own impenetrable charm. "I hope you do," he says warmly, ducking down to mouth eagerly along McCoy's neck. "Maybe that's what I'll do, I'll fuck you how _I_ like it so you can pay me back for every...single...time I slam into you."

"Jim," he growls, and hauls him down, flips him under him. He grinds their cocks together and shuts Jim up with his mouth as he fumbles for his lube, presses it into Jim's hand. "Put your goddamn money where your mouth is."

"Did that already," Jim points out, laughing against McCoy's chin. "Almost came all over your face, Bones, you know how hot that would have been - aaah, shit, shit, yeah." He arches his neck into McCoy's sucking bite, hooks one leg around McCoy and writhes upward.

McCoy lets him go only when he's happy with the shade of the angry red blotch on Jim's skin, then shifts over and braces on his forearms, ass in the air. He expects cold, slick fingers, expects a blunt invasion, but instead he gets Jim crawling behind him and spreading him open with warm hands, gusting hot, damp breath that just precedes the flicker of his tongue. "Jesus, Jim," he groans. He presses his forehead against his arms and struggles to breathe. "That's not- Christ, fuck, _yes_." Jim licks him with delicate care, presses his tongue in shallowly. McCoy shudders and squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t even know himself anymore, doesn’t recognize the desires that are overwhelming him. "Jim...please."

"Yeah," Jim mumbles breathlessly, drawing back. He fumbles open the lube and works fingers into McCoy slowly, more teasing than cautious, the restrained pump of his hand rapidly making McCoy desperate for more. " _Now_ ," McCoy finally rasps.

Jim sinks deep with one strong thrust that pushes a loud cry from McCoy's throat. "C'mere," Jim says, and he hooks his hands under McCoy's shoulders and hauls him up, back against his chest. He pinches McCoy's nipples, licks the back of his neck, moves in tiny, frustrating jerks. "I jerked off earlier," he murmurs in McCoy's ear. "Didn't want to embarrass myself in front of you, after all, if you weren't interested - now it just means this won't be quick. That all right with you, if I take my time?" He twists his hips viciously and McCoy gasps, drops his head back on Jim's shoulders. "You know, I bet I can make you come twice before I'm done. Think I can do it?"

McCoy turns his head and searches out Jim's mouth. It's sloppy and awkward, Jim's tongue across the stubble on his cheek half the time, but it's good and messy and what he needs. He reaches back and grasps at Jim's legs, tries to urge him on. Jim graces him with a few hard thrusts, each one a little longer than the last, but at the same time he grazes one hand down McCoy's stomach and refuses to touch his cock. His other hand pinches more at the nipple under it. "Can you come like this?" He kisses McCoy's shoulder and rocks slowly into him. "Do it, Bones. Come for me and I'll give you what you want. I'll fuck you so hard you'll taste my dick in your coffee tomorrow, swear to God, all you have to do is--"

McCoy comes with a hoarse shout, his back arching away from Jim as he shoots over the sheets. Jim holds him through it, still and patient, then laughs shakily. "Wow," he says, his voice light again. "Shit, I didn't think that'd work. You are, like, a _total_ whore for my cock, aren't you, Bones? That's so _cool_."

"I am going to kill you," McCoy growls. He grabs his cock and milks it lazily, still shaking. "I'm a doctor, I know hundreds of ways to make you suffer and make it look like an accident, I'll -"

"Shut up," Jim laughs. He leans forward, presses McCoy back down. His hands settle firmly on either side of McCoy's waist and he begins thrusting in earnest, slow and deep. "Can't blame you, lots of people _love_ my cock, they've _begged_ for it..."

McCoy closes his eyes and rests his forehead on his arm. He considers a snide comment but he's flushed and lazy and Jim's voice is a quiet scrape across his senses, as sensual as it is cheery and carefree. Jim fucks him without hurry, talks sometimes, goes silent at others, never letting up on the in, out, inoutinoutinout slide of his cock in McCoy's ass. Every once in awhile his pace quickens and McCoy braces for it, aches for the all-out _more_ of it, but each time Jim settles and goes steady again.

He loses track of time, doesn't bother trying. Jim eventually starts telling him some story about some girl, some girl he fucked while her husband took her in the ass, and in the middle of it he reaches around and touches McCoy and fuck it all if he isn't hard again and pushing back into every one of Jim's strokes. " _Good_ ," Jim says in a low voice. He pulls back slowly and then pushes in hard. "That's good, Bones, don't fight it." He works McCoy's cock quickly, mercilessly, takes him right to the brink and then lets go. "Not just yet," he says breathlessly, slumping over McCoy's back, pistoning his hips in short, brutal jabs. "So fucking patient, didn't think you had it in you - take it, just like that, fucking _take_ it, Bones, take my cock, I know you've been waiting for it."

It is, McCoy tells himself, aiming for rationality, it is the novelty of it. He's only ever fucked before, only ever fucked _women_ , and even at the height of trust and love between he and Jocelyn there was a respectfulness to it, a line that never got crossed.

Jim is way over the line, his cock and his words tearing into McCoy, undoing him entirely. He comes weakly all over Jim's arrhythmic hand and Jim gasps, hips stuttering frantically as he tips over the edge, too, and rides it out hard. When he's done he pulls out carefully but McCoy still winces as he collapses on his side, dodges the mess he's made. Jim doesn't seem to care, just lies right down. "Okay?"

McCoy shifts his body closer and kisses Jim, licks into his mouth as he wraps his arm around Jim and rubs his foot against Jim's calf. "Ask me in three days," he replies.


End file.
